


a paper cut for two

by addandsubtract



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:02:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11249922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addandsubtract/pseuds/addandsubtract
Summary: Dylan reads the news along with everyone else – Zach Werenski, top free agent, is coming home.





	a paper cut for two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ohtempora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohtempora/gifts).



> written for ohtempora for team usa exchange! hopefully you like this, bb. ♥
> 
> thanks to j and c for their eyes and encouragement!

Dylan reads the news along with everyone else – Zach Werenski, top free agent, is coming home.

Dylan is happy for him, sort of. He remembers how much Zach wanted to play in Detroit, for the team they both grew up rooting for. What sucks is that they haven’t talked in eight years, and Dylan is captain. It’s his job to make the new guys feel welcome.

Dylan gets a text from Niko ten minutes later – _dude larks did u see the news????_ – but Dylan doesn’t want to talk about it yet. Instead, he finishes his workout and goes home to get drunk – he’s an adult now, not just faking it and hoping no one calls him out, and he can do what he wants.

 

Zach comes in to do promo the week before camp starts, and Dylan has to be there for it, of course. They’re left in the hallway together while the crew gets the cameras set up. It’s going to be a big talking point, Dylan Larkin and Zach Werenski, reunited at home, at last. It doesn’t matter what the real truth is, it just matters that the team can use the narrative to get page views and to get bodies to games. Dylan has reconciled himself to this.

Dylan wore a polo and shorts, normal gear for an end-of-summer video, but they have Zach in a Red Wings jersey, his name stitched into the back. It makes Dylan’s heart hurt to look at. He says, “Suits you,” pointing to the logo on Zach’s chest.

Zach’s mouth tilts up in the corner, the barest kind of smile. “Thanks.”

There isn’t a ton else to talk about. Dylan is afraid to open his mouth in case he says something awful like, _why did you come back when you knew I was still playing here?_

In the end, the director comes out to get them before Dylan is truly tempted to leave.

They have Dylan ask Zach the normal questions – what made you sign here? are you excited about being so close to home? who are you most looking forward to playing with? – and Zach does a good job. He was always okay in interviews, but he’s gotten good at sound bites over the years. 

“I’ve always loved the Wings, since I was a kid,” he says. And, “I know I’m an adult now, and everything, but there’s nothing like Mom’s cooking.” He says, “I don’t know, there are so many good guys on the team, I’m looking forward to all of it.” Then he pauses, smiles, and adds, “But you and I go way back, so I guess I’d say you.”

Dylan freezes for half a second, and then forces a laugh. “Buttering me up, huh? I guess I am the one interviewing you.”

Zach laughs, and shrugs, and the director, off-screen, gives them a thumbs up.

Dylan hates every second of it, but it is what is it. It’s the kind of thing you have to do when you want to play hockey.

 

Dylan heads to Colin’s afterward – he told Colin he’d come over and grill, plus time with his nieces will only make him feel better.

Zoe comes running when he announces his presence, her arms open, ready to be picked up. He scoops her up, even though she’s getting a little big for it, and she shrieks.

“What’s up, Zoe?” he asks. “You helping your dad make dinner?”

“No,” she says. “I was drawing. Caitlin’s on the porch with Daddy.”

“Ooh,” Dylan says, wandering with her into the living room. “Can I see what you were drawing?”

“Uh-huh,” Zoe says, sliding down off of his hip. There are crayons strewn out on the floor, and Dylan crouches down, herding them together into a neater pile. “I was drawing you playing hockey.”

She holds it out, and it’s probably the best thing he’s ever seen – a little figure with big curly hair and a pretty decent Red Wings logo on his back, skating on a little rink.

“Can I keep it?” Dylan asks. “I want to brag about you to my team.”

Zoe considers it for a moment, and then says, “Okay. But I want ice cream for dessert.”

Dylan laughs. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

Dylan does end up helping with dinner. Colin gets Zoe and Caitlin set up at the table on the porch, and mercifully waits half an hour before bringing up Zach.

“So, how was it?” he asks. He’s poking at the burgers, getting ready to flip them, and Dylan is halfway through a beer. Chloe isn’t getting home until tomorrow – her firm retreat is the whole weekend. Colin is used to being the only parent in the house, and anyway, their mom and dad are close by to help out with babysitting.

“With Zach?” Dylan asks. Colin makes a noise like Dylan’s being an idiot, which is fair. “It was about as awful as I thought it was going to be. He was fine, but everyone is expecting me to be pals with my ex – ex-whatever.”

“You can say ex-fiancé,” Colin says, quietly. He’s moved on to poking at the peppers and onions they’re grilling with the burgers.

“I don’t think it counts when he wasn’t ever really planning on going through with it,” Dylan says. Talking about it still makes his chest ache, which is stupid. Dylan has dated other people – seriously, even. Maybe you really don’t ever get over your first.

“Dylan.”

“I’m sorry, I know that’s not fair, I just hate this. I’ll suck it up when camp starts, but can we stop talking about it?” Nothing makes Dylan feel more like he’s back in college, really. Talking to Colin about how he wanted to ask Zach out but wasn’t sure if he should risk it.

He’s not entirely sure he regrets it, but he’s not entirely sure it was worth it, either.

“I think the burgers are cooked anyway,” Colin says.

“Cool,” Dylan says, and makes a smiley face out of onions and peppers for each of the girls. They spend most of dinner talking about the canoeing trip Caitlin is taking next week, and whether Zoe will be old enough to go along next year. Dylan is grateful for that.

 

Dylan has been working out at the Red Wings facility all summer, mostly because of the knee surgery he had after they got knocked out of the playoffs last year. He has a final checkup with the doctors the day before camp starts, but he’s feeling good. No lingering tenderness or stiffness. He’s going to have to work not to favor it when he’s skating, but he’s been on the ice more and more the last month.

He puts the picture Zoe drew him up in his stall. He likes to keep little mementos from them, but this one might be his favorite. He also has a picture of him and the whole family at their last cookout, the Best Uncle Ever certificate that Caitlin made him for his last birthday, and a couple photos of him and the guys from the last World Championship he went to – they won silver, which was kind of a big deal. Dylan was the second or third oldest on the team.

“Caitlin draw that?” It’s Jake, coming in with his bag. He’ll probably be playing first pairing with Zach.

“Zoe,” Dylan says. “She’s very talented.”

“She definitely got your hair right.” Jake laughs, and sets his stuff down in his stall. Dylan came in early on purpose, just to get a last glimpse of the empty locker room before all the guys arrive for their first day of camp. It doesn’t surprise him that he and Jake had a similar idea. “How’s the knee?”

“Pretty much back to normal,” Dylan says. “You?” Jake broke a finger in their second to last game against the Devils and played through it, because of course he did.

Jake wiggles it at him, and then squints. “I figured you’d be glowing, or whatever. Your boy back in town and everything.”

Dylan shrugs. “I’m happy for him. He’ll be a good addition to the team.” He knows he’s being too bland, that Jake will see right through him, so he adds, “Think they’ll give him your A?”

“Don’t even start, asshole,” Jake says. “I earned that A fair and square.”

“Okay, Troubs,” Dylan says. “If that’s what you want to call scaring all the rookies.”

“As an alternate captain, it’s my job to help usher them into adulthood,” Jake says, sage, and then the doors open, and the guys start trickling in. Jake gets distracted by Evgeny, who recently gained an infant – Jake almost certainly wants to see pictures.

Dylan watches. Tyler is still wearing a wrist brace, which doesn’t mean he isn’t good to go, but is something to keep an eye on. Dennis is extremely sunburned. Z always seemed to know what to do to greet everyone on their official first day back, but he was always more formal than Dylan is. It’s just camp.

“Hey, Larks, do you have a second?” Somehow Dylan missed Zach coming in, but here he is, standing in front of Dylan with that familiar nervous expression. He’s always kept things close to the chest, but Dylan’s always been good at seeing through that.

“Sure,” Dylan says. “What’s up?”

“Uh,” Zach says, and glances around the locker room. It’s starting to get loud – Dennis is showing everyone his extreme t-shirt tan, and there’s a whole cluster around Evgeny, cooing at his baby.

“C’mon, we’ll go in the hall,” Dylan says, and pushes himself to his feet.

In the hallway, Dylan leans against the wall, and Zach shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay with me being here,” Zach says. He’s keeping his voice very level.

Dylan barely refrains from rolling his eyes. “Zach, I’m a professional. I’m not going to do anything to jeopardize the team in any way.”

Zach winces. “No, I know that, I wasn’t asking about the team, I meant – are _you_ going to be okay with it.”

Not the question Dylan was expecting. “Isn’t it kind of too late to ask me that?”

“Probably,” Zach says, with a wry twist to his mouth. “I can’t help it, I still want to know.”

Dylan rubs a hand over his mouth, says, “I’m not really okay with it. I don’t know if I will be.”

Zach stares at him for a long time. It feels like he’s being examined, but Dylan isn’t willing to leave and feel like he’s lost. He’s still too competitive for that.

Finally, Zach shakes his head. “It’s been eight years,” he says. “Are you ever going to forgive me?”

Dylan shrugs. “I was easier just not to think about it.” _Not to think about you_ , he doesn’t say.

Zach sighs, and says, “Got it.” He starts to turn to go, and then stops. He speaks without looking at Dylan again. “I wasn’t lying, before. I really did come here partially to play with you again.”

Dylan stays in the hall and watches him go. He’s not sure he could talk to anyone right now. Zach used to be everything to him, but that was too much to put on another person. Dylan gets that; he’s too intense. He’s not good at not caring. He’s not that good at forgiving, either.

He doesn’t know what to do with Zach coming here after all this time and telling Dylan that he’s the reason why. For hockey reasons, anyway. Zach’s better at separating hockey reasons from people reasons.

Eventually, Dylan heads back into the locker room. Everyone cheers and claps, Jake yelling for a speech from the back wall.

“I know, I missed you guys too,” Dylan says.

 

Niko calls when Dylan gets home, which is a little weird. Niko is mostly a texter, and secondarily an uninvited guest. Phone calls are pretty low on his list of priorities. This is mostly why Dylan answers.

“Yo, Larks,” Niko says. “You haven’t texted me back in like two weeks, what gives.”

“Shit, sorry,” Dylan says. “I’ve been –“

“Avoiding all your Werenski mutuals,” Niko says. “Don’t think I didn’t ask Compher.”

“You all want to talk to me about it,” Dylan says, not bothering to come up with an excuse. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hey, we’re your buddies, we want to make sure you’re alive and surviving,” Niko says. “Just because we’re his friends too doesn’t mean you should be a child.”

“I’m not,” Dylan says, and Niko laughs at him. “Fine, maybe a little. But you should get to be happy for him, and I’m, uh. Not.”

“He really wanted this,” Niko says. “That doesn’t mean you can’t have mixed feelings about it.”

“Stop being reasonable,” Dylan says. “You get married and have a kid and now you’re, like – thoughtful?”

“Hey,” Niko says. “I’m not more reasonable, I’m just less drunk. You know I can drive down there anytime I’m not on baby duty and beat some sense into you.”

“Don’t lie, I know you’re coming to opening night. You’ve probably already got tickets, you and Brad and the whole crew.” Colin probably would’ve been invited, if Dylan and Zach were still anything. Sometimes Dylan feels bad about that, but Colin will be there with Chloe and the girls and his parents. He’ll have plenty of people there to see him.

“Guilty,” Niko says, but he doesn’t sound it. “Just don’t avoid me, okay? I live too close for you to ever really succeed at that.”

“Noted,” Dylan says.

 

Zach takes to the team easily. Of course he does – he’s a fantastic player, he’s a local, and even though he’s quiet he’s not shy. He has Jake laughing within two hours, and he takes Evgeny’s whole family out for dinner. It’s not that Dylan thought Zach wouldn’t become friends with the guys on the team – he signed a four-year contract, and unless he declines a lot over the next year, the team is going to want to hold onto him. And given how he’s playing with Jake, Dylan doesn’t think a decline is likely yet.

It’s the first time that Dylan’s really acknowledged that Zach is here to stay. He’s not jazzed about it.

“Regretting that huge, seven year contract?” Jake asks, as they’re walking to their cars after practice. They’ve won four of their exhibition games, not that it means anything. The last of the AHL cuts are coming – not that he or Jake has to worry about that anymore. Or yet.

“I love Detroit,” Dylan says. It sounds glib, but he does. He still doesn’t want to play anywhere else.

“Then stop being such a grump. Now you’re the one scaring the rookies, and bad cop bad cop isn’t really a good method of child-rearing.” Jake nudges Dylan with his shoulder.

“Stop talking to me about my feelings,” Dylan says. “Can’t I just avoid them like a normal person?”

“I don’t know, you’re the captain,” Jake says. “Maybe you should get a dog, that would cheer you up.”

“I’m not getting a dog,” Dylan says. “I have nieces to cheer me up, much better.”

“You have no responsibility over nieces, you mean,” Jake says.

“Yes,” Dylan says. “Except when I babysit.”

Jake squints at him, a look Dylan recognizes from all the other times Jake has tried to be serious. “You know you can talk to me if you need to, right?”

“Yes.” Dylan rolls his eyes. “You’re a very good friend. Can I go home now?”

Jake looks at him for another long moment, and then smiles. “Yes, you’re excused.”

“Thanks, much appreciated.” Dylan gives Jake a hug before getting into his car, just so that Jake knows he appreciates the thought, even if he just wants people to stop being able to tell he’s upset.

 

They open at home against Columbus. Zach is stone-faced through his pre-game routine, and Dylan wonders how sad he is that Columbus couldn’t re-sign him. He knows Zach wants to be here, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t twinge, a little. Seth shows up outside their locker room before the game starts, gives Zach a hug and a little pep talk, and then wanders away with Jake. Jake has tried to get Seth to Detroit since he signed in free agency, but Seth isn’t having it, for whatever reason. Jake just keeps trying.

They don’t play Columbus at home for another two months, plenty of time for the Jackets to fix up a video package. Dylan can’t tell if Zach is dreading it or looking forward to that. He’s not going to ask.

Halfway through the first period, it becomes clear that the Jackets are going after Zach, a little – giving him shit, nudging him into the boards, getting his blood up. Zach is ice cold during games, always has been, and he doesn’t even crack a smile. It’s fine until the start of the second, when Peeke trips him up and he goes down hard. Dylan’s line is out, and he sees Zach’s chin hit the ice. He just lies there for a long second. The fury that rises in Dylan’s throat is irrational and stupid, but that doesn’t stop him from charging in before he even thinks at all.

The next thing Dylan knows, the refs are blowing the whistle – Dylan has his fist in Peeke’s jersey, and his face is stinging where Peeke’s gloved hand glanced off his cheek. Zach is pushing himself to his feet, and he’s staring at Dylan like he’s seen a ghost. Dylan feels nauseous, horrified – as if there was any other way for Zach to interpret this than that Dylan still cares about him.

Not that Dylan ever denied that.

The ref tells him to go to the box, and Dylan does. The Wings score on the ensuing 4-on-4, and Dylan doesn’t even feel good about it. By the time his two minutes are up, he’s calmed down enough to get his head back into the game. They finish the period up by that one goal.

 

During intermission, Jake starts to talk to Dylan, but Zach comes over before he can get any words out.

“Your face is gonna bruise,” Zach says. His expression is still utterly flat. 

Dylan shrugs. “We scored a goal.”

Zach snorts. “Right, that’s what that was about.”

“Can this wait?” Dylan says. “We still have a period left.”

Zach’s mouth twists, then, and he reaches out abortively, before clearly stopping himself. He shakes his head and walks away.

Jake is looking between them, and Dylan isn’t at all interested in his thoughts. He just wants to win this game, and then escape out of the arena with his family, hopefully never to talk about it again.

“And I thought Seth was dramatic,” Jake says, mild. He pats Dylan on the shoulder. Dylan is looking at the tense line of Zach’s shoulders and trying not to think about anything in particular.

 

They do win the game. Jake makes a diving stop across the open mouth of the goal with under two minutes left and their goalie off balance, and Tyler gets an empty netter. It’s not a bad game, overall.

Dylan spends most of his time on the bench wondering how he could be such an idiot, to still be so open about his feelings. After all this time. He thought he’d learned better, but Zach turns him back into a teenager.

The reporters want to talk to him after, of course. He’s the captain, it’s their first game, and there’s the narrative to think about.

“What was going through your mind after that Peeke hit?” 

Dylan shrugs, and pushes his wet hair off of his forehead. “Nothing, really. It was all just instinct.”

“You’re not known for being much of a fighter,” another reporter pipes in.

“You know, I’ve got to support my guys. I’ve always felt that way,” Dylan says.

“Did the fact that you’ve known Werenski as long as you have play a part? It was his first game with the Wings, and against his old team.”

Dylan glances across the locker room to where Zach is standing in front of his stall, taking questions from other reporters. His face is still flushed from the shower, and he doesn’t look worse for wear at all – he’s even smiling. “Yeah, I mean – I don’t know, I like to think I’d have reacted the same if anyone had hit the ice like that.” He forces a laugh. “Don’t want Zach to get a big head or anything,”

They laugh, on move on to other questions – Jake’s ridiculous save, how it feels to start the season on a win – but Dylan isn’t stupid enough to think they’re not going to mention his slip up in their article. They’ve got to be asking Zach the same questions. 

Eventually, the locker room clears out, and Dylan can focus on getting his things together to leave. 

Zach tries to stop him again on the way out, mouth in a firm line, but Dylan shakes him off. “Your family is here,” he says. “And Niko and the guys. They’ll want you to say hi after your first Wings win.”

Zach doesn’t look like he likes that answer very much at all, but he doesn’t push Dylan into a wall or make him stay or anything. He’s never been as impulsive as Dylan. It’s probably part of why they didn’t work out. Zach was too cerebral to go along with Dylan when it wasn’t what he wanted, even at 19.

Dylan never doubted that Zach loved him, but he didn’t feel it the way Dylan did, either. It happens.

“I’m going to be here for four years, Dylan,” Zach says. The disapproval in his voice is so familiar it makes Dylan’s chest ache.

“Plenty of time to talk later,” Dylan replies, and heads out into the hallway. He knows he’s running away, but his parents are waiting for him.

 

His mom makes a fuss over his face at dinner – it’s tender, though Dylan hasn’t examined it closely. He’s had worse bruises, and he says so.

Colin keeps giving Dylan knowing looks across the table; Dylan is lucky that Chloe and the girls are here to keep Colin from saying anything worse than, “Scrappy game.”

“We won, though,” Dylan says, and they leave it at that.

Niko sent the Michigan group thread a few pictures from the stands during the game – Dylan could tell he was sitting with Brad, just from the blurry half of Brad’s face that made it onto Niko’s selfie – and now he’s clearly out with Brad and Zach after the game, too. While Dylan is eating, he sends a picture of the three of them, captioned, “the prodigal son has returned!!!!!” It doesn’t hurt, exactly, but Klo sends a whole line of incomprehensible emoji, and Boo sends hearts of all colors, and JT says, “About time!!”

They’re all still his friends, but he also never really told them what a blindside it was when Zach called everything off. He should have known: Zach’s noncommittal responses to all of Dylan’s honeymoon ideas should have been a hint. It hadn’t been enough of one for Dylan.

“Dylan,” his dad says, drawing Dylan’s attention back to the table.

“Sorry,” he says. “Text thread’s blowing up, I’m just gonna put my phone on silent.”

 

Later, after Dylan is back in his own house, he looks up the postgame footage of Zach that the team posted online. There are a few questions about what it was like for Zach to play his old team – “Weird, really weird. You get used to playing with a group of guys, you know? There are going to be some feelings about that. But I’m really happy to be here, playing for Detroit.”

He looks it. He smiles wide, a grin Dylan remembers from the other side of a Michigan dorm room, and from the other side of the bed when they went on vacation to California together. Dylan has had that smile pressed against his mouth too many times to count, but that was years ago. It’s stupid to still miss it.

“So Larkin came to your defense tonight after – a pretty careless play from Peeke, in the words of your coach.”

“Columbus has always played physical,” Zach says. “I’m not exempt from that just because I used to be on the team. They wanted to rile me up, for sure.”

“Did it work?” a second cuts in.

“I’m pretty good at keeping a cool head,” Zach says.

“And Larkin? He’s not exactly known for being a laid back guy. How did you feel about him jumping in?’

Zach pauses, and then laughs, shaking his head. “It was – familiar, I guess. Dylan’s defended me plenty of times over the years, though not on the ice in a while.”

“You haven’t played together since Worlds in 2019,” the same reporter says.

“You did some research, huh?” Zach laughs again. It only sounds a tiny bit forced, and only because Dylan knows what to listen for. “Like I said, it’s been awhile. Nice to know I can still rely on him, I guess.”

The reporters chuckle, and Dylan thinks that if anyone watched the post-games from tonight, they’d think that he and Zach were still friends. It’s funny how good they’ve both gotten at half-truths.

He and Zach both went to Slovakia in 2019, and they fucked almost every night of the tournament. Dylan can’t think of anything he regrets more. Their bodies still knew how to make the sex good, but they couldn’t talk to each other, not about anything real. Dylan didn’t even stay over in Zach’s hotel room after. They lost in the bronze medal game, and went home, and nothing was different.

Dylan hadn’t even realized he’d had his hopes up again until they were dashed.

Dylan’s fallen in love a few times since Zach, but never with the same kind of abandon. Maybe more how Zach loved him. More carefully. He hasn’t proposed to anyone else, but he thought he could get there someday. He isn’t sure if it’s still possible with Zach here, now.

“Stop being so dramatic,” he says to himself, and goes to get ready for bed.

 

Mercifully, Zach waits until after practice to corner Dylan again.

“Let’s get lunch,” he says, and his tone brooks no argument.

Dylan wants to say, _I’ve been trying to be good, can’t you just give me space to get used to you again?_ , but he doesn’t. He looks over his shoulder at Jake, who shrugs, and then follows Zach out to his car.

The drive is silent, and Dylan tries not to fidget. Zach drives them to a sushi restaurant they used to go to all the time during the summers. They’re closer to where Zach grew up than Dylan – Dylan’s been here more recently, though.

They get a table in the back of the restaurant. It’s still pretty empty, a little too early for the lunch crowd. Dylan doesn’t think they’ll make a scene, but he’s still grateful for that.

“What did you want to talk about?” Dylan asks, after they’ve ordered their rolls.

“I just – I wasn’t expecting you to do that,” Zach says. He’s looking down at the table, but he lifts his chin so he can meet Dylan’s eyes. “Why did you do that?”

Dylan could bullshit, probably. He’s never been very good at lying to Zach, though. He shrugs. “I thought it was kind of obvious why.”

“But you hate me,” Zach says.

Dylan laughs and Zach frowns. “I don’t hate you.”

“But –”

“There’s a different between hating you and not forgiving you,” Dylan says. “Unfortunately.”

Zach’s mouth flattens into a straight line. Dylan’s made him a little angry. They never fought, not even close to the end, but Dylan wonders if it would have been better for them if maybe they had. Pretending there weren’t problems certainly didn’t work.

“Why can’t you just – it’s been so long. I miss you.” Zach’s face is still even and calm, and Dylan wishes – he wishes Zach would stop being even and calm.

“Sorry that I can’t pretend things are fine until they are,” Dylan says. “You know I’ve never been good at that.”

The food comes, then, and breaks up the conversation. They don’t talk any more while they eat, and Zach pays for the bill when it comes.

“I thought it was just, I don't know – habit, that it had been long enough and I could come back now, that we could be friends again. Niko tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen to him.” He shakes his head.

“Time doesn’t magically fix everything,” Dylan says, his chest tight. It matters a little that Zach thought about it, that Zach wanted something from him again, but if he’d wanted it, he should’ve asked. Showing up doesn’t count for enough.

Zach was the one who pulled away. Dylan shouldn’t have to do all the heavy lifting.

“What do I have to do?” Zach asks, but Dylan doesn’t have an answer for him.

“I don’t know,” he says. He can’t decide if he wants Zach to figure it out, or just to leave him alone. That’s a lie, and he knows it, but there’s no one to call him on it.

 

After they climb back into Zach’s car, Zach pauses, keys in the ignition. Dylan watches as he chews on his lip and then turns to face Dylan.

“Come home with me,” he says. His expression is solemn, and it takes Dylan a few moments to realize what he means. “I’m – just this once. Dylan –” He cuts himself off, and Dylan realizes that his hands are clenched tight on the steering wheel.

“Okay,” Dylan says, even though he knows he’ll regret it. 

Zach doesn’t say anything else, but he starts the car. Dylan recognizes the drive to Zach’s apartment, the one he bought when he signed his first contract. His parents helped him pay for it while he was waiting to get big money for the first time. They fucked in the big bed he bought, but that was when it was still summer, and they were still fine. Or – Dylan thinks they were. He’s never been quite sure when Zach started to have doubts.

Dylan should ask why, what Zach thinks either of them is going to get out of having sex, but he doesn’t really think he wants the answer. He’s enough of a fuckup to go along with it, even though he knows that he shouldn’t. He hasn’t said anything out loud, but it’s obvious to everyone how much he’s missed Zach.

He follows Zach inside and up the elevator, and when they get into Zach’s apartment, he lets Zach kiss him. 

“Please,” Zach says, so quiet, and Dylan has always been bad at saying no to him, even when he knows that he should.

He lets Zach take off his clothes, and tug him into the bedroom, and fuck him. Zach’s mouth is hot, and his hands are firm and grasping. He makes needy noises, and he tells Dylan over and over that he feels so good, that Zach missed this, missed him, and Dylan wishes he could cover he ears. 

When Dylan turns over onto his front, Zach asks if his knee can take it, if it’ll hurt him, and Dylan’s reply sticks in his throat, just that little sign that Zach was paying attention is enough to trip him up. He lies face down and presses his face into the mattress so that he doesn’t have to see anything he doesn’t want to. He just has to feel Zach push inside him, Zach’s teeth on the back of his shoulder when he comes. Dylan stays there, panting, when Zach rolls off.

“You can stay, if you want,” Zach says. “Nap before the game tonight.” His voice is gravelly, and his hand is a warm weight on Dylan’s forearm. Dylan keeps his face turned away. It’s so different from the last time they did this, quiet and fast in a hotel room in Slovakia, and different from all the times before that, when Zach loved him.

Dylan clears his throat and rolls away, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. He feels a little like he wants to cry, but he’s the one who keeps making this mistake. Like Zach wanting _something_ from him is enough to reel him helplessly back in, but it always has been.

“It’s cool, I’m gonna go.” He realizes that his car is still at the arena, and his phone is still in his pants pocket. He’ll need to call a car to drop him back off again.

“Dylan –“ Zach says, and Dylan hears the sound of the sheets rustling as he starts to sit up. Dylan stands, and turns, forcing a smile.

“It’s fine, I have to get my car anyway,” he says. “Thanks, though.”

Zach’s expression is dubious, and maybe even a little hurt, and Dylan escapes into the living room before he can think any more about that. His clothes are scattered on the floor and couch, and he dresses in a hurry.

He ends up walking to the arena. He hasn’t done it before, but it’s only a half hour or so, and the fall air feels good on the sweaty back of his neck. He wants to walk off the feeling of being freshly fucked, and how nice Zach’s body felt against his. It doesn’t really work, but it’s something.

 

They start the season on a five game win streak, and then lose to the Flyers. Dylan hasn’t looked at Zach for more than two minutes at a time since they fucked, but he’s gone back to Zach’s apartment twice more. Zach leaves a mark on Dylan’s neck that Dylan avoids looking at, and Jake ribs him about it for less than a minute before he sees whatever expression is on Dylan’s face. It is what it is. Dylan feels like a clenched fist, wrapped up so tight, but at least it’s not stopping him from scoring.

Dylan goes to Colin’s house after their first loss. Colin opens the door and says, “Jesus, you’re _not_.”

Dylan steps inside and doesn’t put his hand over his neck. “Okay, I’m not.”

“You’re an idiot,” Colin says, but he grabs Dylan a beer from the kitchen anyway, and tells Dylan he can sleep in the guest room. The girls are already in bed, which is probably for the best, but Dylan didn’t want to be in his house alone, and he didn’t want the temptation of Zach’s, either.

They drink in silence until Colin kicks Dylan’s ankle, says, “Have you even talked to him?”

“Yeah,” Dylan says, and then, at Colin’s raised eyebrow, “Sort of.”

“Dylan –”

“He missed me,” Dylan says. “He thought – I guess he thought that I’d be okay with him coming back.”

“He’s as much an idiot as you are,” Colin says. “He – it’s not just you, you know. He was crazy about you, too. Maybe he still is.”

“I would have – I don’t know, I think I’d still be happy if we’d gotten married at 20. Who knows, I guess.” Dylan thinks about it sometimes – mostly when he’s drunk, sure, but he thinks about how maybe there’s some alternate universe where they’ve been married almost eight years, and Zach coming back to Detroit means that they can finally be together all year. He thinks about how happy he’d have been, at 20, to know that it was going to happen. 

“Why are you sleeping with him?” Colin asks. “What do you possibly think you’ll get out of that?”

Dylan shrugs. “I just don’t have any sense of self-preservation, I guess.”

Colin gets up to them another round, and then sits next to Dylan on the couch, slinging and arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Dylan doesn’t let his breath shake when he exhales, but later he does let Colin help him upstairs, to bed.

 

Dylan and Jake have a tradition for road trips. They don’t sit next to anyone else on the plane, but they do sit across the aisle from each other, and then after they get into the hotel, they set up in Dylan’s room and play cards. Mostly gin, but other things make it into the rotation sometimes. Riley used to play hearts with them before he got traded.

“You’re cheating,” Jake says, after his fourth consecutive loss.

“You’re just bad at cards,” Dylan says. Tomorrow they play LA, and then two days after that they play San Jose. Getting their west coast swing out of the way early.

“Rookies are talking about you. Asking Svech about you and Wren.”

“What about us? And what would Svech know about it anyway?”

Jake shrugs. “Everyone’s talking about how long you two have known each other, what great friends you are, but, uh. It doesn’t seem that way to the guys, I guess.”

“We used to be friends,” Dylan says. “It’s easier for the team if we’re still friends publicly, but that’s about it.”

“It would also be good for the guys if you were friendly, especially for the kids,” Jake says. He laughs, cutting the seriousness of his tone in that very Jake way. “You know how we worry about you, Captain.”

“Asshole,” Dylan says. He doesn’t want to touch the rest of it. He doesn’t want to fuck up the locker room with his own drama, but he’s not sure there’s an optimum solution. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Cool,” Jake says, and then someone else knocks on the door. Dylan gets up, dressed mostly for bed, and when he looks through the peephole he’s somehow unsurprised to find that it’s Zach standing in the hallway. He’s wearing an ancient Michigan sweatshirt with a huge hole along the neckline.

“Speak of the devil,” Dylan says over his shoulder, voice dry. 

“Guess that’s my cue to leave,” Jake says. He pushes himself off the bed and past Dylan, pulling the door open. “Hey Wren, I assume you’re here for Larks, not me.”

“Uh,” Zach says, looking between them. “Yeah, mostly.”

“I’m gonna go, then,” Jake says, and gives Zach a hard pat on the shoulder. “Make good choices, kids.”

Zach’s mouth goes flat, and he watches Jake go. Dylan watches Zach.

“You gonna come in?” he asks.

“Oh,” Zach says, and lets Dylan close the door behind him. There’s a moment where Dylan thinks that he could say something real, something like, _why are you doing this to me? why didn’t you want me enough?_

He’s too chickenshit, though.

Zach kisses him, pushes him up against the door, and Dylan lets him. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” Zach says. He’s always been more vocal in bed than out of it, but Dylan doesn’t know what to do with the hurried way he pulls off Dylan’s clothes, the things he keeps saying.

“You look so good,” Zach says, pushing Dylan down onto the mattress. “You always blush so red, all over.”

“Be quiet,” Dylan says, covering his eyes with the back of his arm so he does have to see Zach’s wide eyes and blown pupils, the way he stares.

“Sure,” Zach says, and sinks to his knees, licking a stripe up the inside of Dylan’s thigh and then sucking the head of his dick into his mouth.

Dylan moans too loud, and then gasps when Zach sinks down. They learned all of these things on each other, but Zach’s gotten better at it in the years since they broke up. He takes Dylan all the way in, bobbing, and hums around him. He listens to the way Dylan chokes and whines, and sucks around him, hot and wet.

Dylan doesn’t look down, though he doesn’t really have to. He’s seen Zach do this before, the way his mouth goes red and slick, his cheeks flushed. He remembers the first time, Zach furtive and nervous in the basement of Dylan’s billet house in Ann Arbor, how much he wanted to make it good for Dylan. Dylan doesn’t need to see it now to know what Zach looks like, which is torture enough.

He comes, biting into the inside of his arm to muffle the sound. Zach suckles around him a little longer, until it’s too much, and Dylan whines, curling up.

He listens to the rustle of Zach pushing his pants down. He feels the dip in the bed, the heat of Zach’s skin, his thighs, as he straddles Dylan’s hips. He hears the slick sound of Zach’s hand on his dick.

“Look at me,” Zach says. He’s breathless, desperate. Dylan shakes his head, eyes squeezed tight. “Please, Dyl, why won’t you look at me?”

 _It would be too real_ , Dylan doesn’t say. He’s biting into his bottom lip, trying to keep the sounds in. It’s only when he feels Zach’s hand on his arm, pulling it away from his face that he realizes he’s crying a little.

Which, Fuck. He blinks until the blurriness goes away, feels a tear slide down his cheek, and wipes it away with the back of his hand. Zach is on top of him, looking down at him, mouth open. He’s still hard, one hand curled around his dick, but his brows are drawn down.

He can see Zach gathering himself, pulling together enough to ask – something, something Dylan probably doesn’t want to answer. Dylan reaches up and wraps his hand around Zach’s, getting him moving again.

“Dylan,” Zach tries again, but his hips are working into the clench of their combined hands, and Dylan can see the way his eyelids flutter. Dylan doesn’t want to talk about it; he’d rather get Zach off, and then not think about anything ever again.

Zach arches down over him and kisses him. Dylan wonders if his mouth tastes like salt. He can taste himself on Zach’s lips. He wonders if Zach thinks about all the other times they’ve kissed the way that Dylan does. Probably not.

Dylan’s eyes sting again, and Zach comes in spurts, splattering Dylan’s chest and stomach. At least with Zach kissing him, Dylan can close his eyes again.

Zach kisses his face, his brow, the arch of his nose, his cheek. There are definitely smudged tears on his skin, but Dylan can’t do anything about that now.

“Are you okay?” Zach asks. He’s still breathing too hard, one hand brushing through the mess on Dylan’s skin.

“Fine,” Dylan says. “I’m just – can you – I’m going to shower.”

“Dylan –” Zach says, but Dylan can’t stay here, underneath Zach, like this isn’t just sex they don’t know better than. He doesn’t want to hear the concerned sound of Zach’s voice.

“I’m fine,” Dylan says.

“You’re not,” Zach says. “Why do you – why can’t we just talk about it?”

“It’s just sex,” Dylan says, keeping his voice flat. “Sometimes things get intense. I need to go clean up.”

“I’m not letting you leave,” Zach says. “And it’s not just sex – when is it ever just sex with us?”

“I don’t know, since you told me you didn’t want to marry me?” Dylan spits the words out and immediately regrets them. He doesn’t actually want to talk about it. They fought for almost an hour over the phone, when Zach called and said that he wanted to break things off. ‘It’s just too fast for me,’ he said. Dylan pleaded and pleaded with him, trying to get him to take it back. Dylan still wonders why he hadn’t said it seven months earlier.

Zach sucks in a harsh breath, but he doesn’t get off of Dylan, either. Dylan could probably struggle up, push Zach over, but he can’t force Zach to leave his room. Not physically and not emotionally either.

“You know that’s not true,” Zach says. He sounds like he wants to be certain, but he isn’t anymore. “Dylan, why do you think – why are you determined to think I don’t care about you?”

“Zach, you’re the one who told me we had to stop, that you didn’t want to get married. You weren’t ready, you didn’t want it enough.”

“I was barely _twenty_ ,” Zach says. “That’s not the same as –”

“Fine,” Dylan says. “I know. Now can you please let me up?”

Zach does, finally. Dylan feels sticky and used. It’s the first time he’s really felt uncomfortable being naked around Zach. Even when they fucked at Worlds, Dylan left, and he felt shitty about himself, and sad, but not in the way he does now.

“I was always planning on coming back to you,” Zach says, like a confession. “And then it turned out you didn’t want me to. I thought – I guess I thought that when we were older, that would be the right time.”

Dylan pauses by the door to the bathroom. He almost wants to laugh. “That’s not how it works, Z. You can’t just – count on the fact that I’ll always be in love with you. It’s not enough.”

Zach says, “Jesus, Dylan.”

“You knew that.” Dylan shrugs, the movement jerky. “Nothing’s changed.”

Dylan wishes, as he closes the door, that he could forget the expression on Zach’s face, just then. The anguish. It doesn’t change anything, but it makes Dylan’s chest ache, anyway. He showers quickly, but Zach is still gone when he gets back.

 

They don’t fuck again after that. Zach is perfectly cordial, prone to saying nice things about Dylan in his post-games and interviews, but he steers clear otherwise. It’s probably for the best.

The Wings are having a good season. Dylan lets himself sink into that, the schedule of it. He promises Colin that he’ll babysit the girls for a night around Christmas, so that Colin and Chloe can have a night off. Jake gets another dog, his third. Evgeny brings his baby to work, and they all coo over her.

Dylan isn’t happy, but he’s not sad, either. He’s not angry. It was better not to drag things out with Zach – maybe, eventually, they can be friends again. Of some sort.

He goes out with Niko for a late Thanksgiving, early Christmas thing. Zach is there with Brad, and a bunch of the UMich guys. It’s crowded and loud, and Dylan doesn’t have to talk to Zach directly, which is nice. It’s not something all of them ever talk about, but the guys are usually pretty good with keeping Zach and Dylan apart at group functions.

After an hour or so, Dylan is thinking about leaving, and Brad sits down next to Dylan. His beer glass is half empty, and he sets it on the table.

“Hey, Larks,” Brad says.

“Brad,” Dylan says. They were buddies, before, but brothers are loyal. Brad and Colin are, anyway. “Are you here to give me some kind of talking to?”

Brad snorts. Dylan looks over to where Zach is standing next to Steve, watches him throw his head back and laugh.

“Nah, Larks, I’m just here to say hi,” Brad says. “Do I have to say anything?”

“He looks fine,” Dylan says. 

Brad laughs. “He’s a better actor than you are.”

Dylan says, “So I’ve been told,” but he has a hard time looking away from Zach, after that. Brad finishes his beer and then orders another round. Dylan hasn’t had a real conversation with Brad in a long time, and he doesn’t know what’s changed. When he’s finished another beer, he asks.

“Z tells me a lot. Sometimes it’s about what he doesn’t say, I guess.” Brad leans back in his chair. “Really, I’m here because I know he’ll get nervous seeing me talk to you. I wanna see how long it takes him to ask.”

That makes Dylan laugh. “You’re a big brother at heart, huh?”

Brad smiles, says, “Someone has to give him a hard time, and it better not be anyone other than me.”

There’s a warning in there, Dylan thinks, but Dylan also thinks he’s done all the damage he can already. He fucked things up a long time ago. There’s not much more he can do.

 

By the beginning of December, they’re second in the conference. It’s the best record they’ve had in a long while, and Dylan isn’t stupid enough to think none of that is on Zach. He’s been great at every level he’s played at, Dylan would be the first person to say so. In fact, he often does. The reporters ask about Zach, and then they realize they don’t have to. If the team can keep up the momentum, they’ll make the playoffs this year for sure.

Greta, who works for the Detroit Free Press, asks what his plans are for the mini-break, and Dylan just shrugs, says, “I’m on babysitting duty the day before. We’ll do a big family thing on actual Christmas, but my nieces are the best, and I like to give their parents the night off.”

“It seems like most of the team is going to the Werenski’s thing. You’re passing up free food in order to babysit your nieces? That must get you big points with the family,” Greta says. It’s not even an interview, she’s just making conversation, probably waiting for Evgeny to get off the ice. He has a point in each of his last ten games, so they all want to talk to him about it.

“Family comes first,” Dylan says. “Plus Colin is paying for food anyway. Win-win.”

Greta laughs, and when Evgeny comes back into the locker room, she dutifully abandons him. Dylan doesn’t have any real feelings about not being invited – it’ll probably be more fun for the team if he isn’t there, anyway. He always gets gag gifts for the guys, passes them out in the locker room after their last practice before the holiday, but that doesn’t necessitate seeing them after.

 

At the break, they’re four points behind Boston for first in the division. They have one game in hand. Dylan is second on the team in scoring, after Evgeny, and there’s been a lot of talk about a “resurgence” – like he disappeared last year and is now back up to snuff.

“Do you think the addition of such an old friend to the team has had a hand in your increased scoring?” Dylan’s been asked it enough times by now that he mostly shrugs it off.

“I think the whole defense this year has been tremendous – Jake and Zach make a good team, and Michael’s had a hell of a season so far. When you have confidence in the guys behind you, that makes it easy to be aggressive.”

Dylan doesn’t mention that he was playing most of the year with a nagging knee injury. He hasn’t told the press how long it was a problem before he had surgery, so mostly everyone has assumed it was playoffs related. It’s not really an excuse, anyway. Let them think that Zach’s transformed his game just by showing up. It’s better than the truth.

 

Colin and Chloe leave at 6. They’re going out to a fancy restaurant and staying in a hotel for the night. Dylan shows up early, just to make sure that they leave on time, and to take stock of the provisions.

“Uncle Dylan!” Caitlin runs to him when the door opens. “You have to tell Zoe that we can’t watch Pocket Princess again, we watched it last time and I’m _tired_ of it.”

“What did your mom say?” Dylan asks.

Caitlin rolls her eyes. She getting really good at it. “That there’s probably enough time for two movies. But I’m sick of that one, it’s all Zoe ever wants to watch.”

“Well, we’ll watch it before dinner, so you and I can play cards during the movie. How’s that?”

Caitlin sighs, deep and exaggerated, but says, “Fine, but you have to promise to show me how to cheat.”

“Why do you think I know how to cheat?” Dylan lets her lead him into the living room, where Zoe is arranged on the floor with a coloring book. Dylan can hear Colin thumping around upstairs, and Chloe is on the phone in the kitchen.

“Daddy always says so,” Caitlin says. “He says you’re the biggest cheater he knows.”

“Wow, a betrayal,” Dylan says. “I think I can show you a few things, though.”

Chloe is already dressed, purse in hand, and emerges into the living room. “I ordered you pizza, and there are sliced carrots in the fridge. No ice cream until after dinner.” She’s looking straight at Dylan with her eyebrows raised.

“I let them have ice cream for dinner one time and I’m never gonna live it down.”

“Nope, that’s why you’re the younger brother and I’m the older one,” Colin says from the stairs. “Thanks for babysitting.”

“I love my girls, even if they can’t agree on movies.” Caitlin giggles at that, and Colin gives him a quick hug. “Go, I won’t burn down the house or anything, I promise.”

“Love you, Dyl,” Chloe says, kissing his cheek. “I promise we got you a Christmas gift this year.”

“Awesome. I’ll leave you guys some extra pancakes in the morning.” Dylan says, and watches them go. He turns back to the girls. “So, Pocket Princess and cards, then pizza and whatever Caitlin wants to watch. Deal?”

“Deal,” Caitlin says.

“Okay,” Zoe says, kicking her feet. She’s coloring a space ship in entirely red. “But I want to stay up until the end of the movie.”

“I think I can handle that,” Dylan says.

 

They make it through Pocket Princess, and Dylan shows Caitlin the two sneaky methods of shuffling that he knows. He’s not actually that good at cheating, but children are pretty easy to convince. They get pizza, and carrots, and ice cream, and Caitlin puts on the superhero cartoon that she’s obsessed with. Zoe falls asleep halfway through, and Caitlin laughs when Dylan picks her up and carries her up to bed. At 9, Caitlin reluctantly gets ready to sleep, and Dylan tucks her in.

Dylan loves them more than almost anything. He thinks, sometimes, what it might be like to be a dad, but mostly he just enjoys being in his nieces lives.

He watches the Sharks play the Kings at home, just because it’s too early to sleep, but he still drifts off on the couch partway through the third. When he wakes up again, it takes him a moment to figure out why, but then there’s another loud, insistent knock on the front door.

It’s after midnight, and his neck hurts from falling asleep on the couch. He pulls open the door and Zach is standing on the front porch, flushed and listing, clearly drunk.

“Aren’t you hosting a party?” Dylan blurts out. “Jesus, you didn’t drive here, did you?”

Zach laughs. “No, I called a car. Went to yours first, but then it was dark and I remembered you said you’d be here.” He’s slurring his words just a little, and Dylan feels his stomach twist. 

“Inside,” he says, and tugs Zach inside with a firm hand on his arm. “And be quiet, the girls are sleeping.”

“Shit,” Zach says. “Your nieces.”

“Yeah, you have great timing, as usual.” 

Dylan nudges Zach down onto the couch, and goes to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. He only stalls for a moment, taking a deep breath as he stands in front of the sink. When he gets back into the living room, Zach has slumped over a little.

“Here,” he says, handing it to Zach. “Careful. And drink it all.”

“Okay, dad,” Zach says, but he does. After he’s done, Dylan takes the glass back and puts it down on the coffee table. Zach is staring at him.

“Why are you here, Zach?” He means to wait until Zach sobers up a little, but the words escape, somehow.

“I just – I _miss_ you. You’re right there and I still miss you.” Zach slumps down, tilting his head over the back of the couch. “I didn’t think it would be so hard, being this close to you all the time.”

Dylan snorts. “I don’t know why you thought that.”

“I thought I’d get to Detroit and we’d start over. It’s been so long. But you can’t ever really start over, can you?”

“Not the way you want to,” Dylan says. “C’mon, Colin has guest rooms, why don’t you sleep it off.”

Zach lets Dylan help him up, only tripping on the stairs once. He goes down on the bed with a soft push, and Dylan thinks about how easy it would be to slide between the sheets and just sleep next to him, like they used to do. Like when they pushed their dorm beds together at Michigan, or the big king-sized bed Dylan got when he bought his own place. He doesn’t, though.

“I know I wasn’t ready,” Zach mumbles, head turned against the pillow. “But I didn’t think I’d lose you forever, either. I couldn’t imagine that. I loved you so much.”

It hurts to hear it, but it’s good, too. After everything, it’s nice to know that Zach’s thought about it, too. Dylan knows that what happened is his fault, that he wanted too much too fast, that it’s his fault they’re like this now. He can’t just let everything go. But it’s nice to know that Zach can’t, either.

“Get some sleep,” he says, and closes the door softly behind him.

 

In the morning, Dylan makes pancakes. He wakes up to a bunch of texts in the group chat, everyone wondering where Zach is. He sends, _I’ve got him_ , and tries not to think about the reactions to that.

Niko texts him a long line of question marks. Dylan wonders why he’s awake, but still replies with, _get your head out of the gutter, it’s not like that_.

Zoe and Caitlin are up at 7, like usual, but Dylan lets Zach sleep. He tells the girls that one of his friends stopped over after they went to bed, so that when Zach eventually emerges, they barely look up from their plates.

“Pancakes?” Dylan asks, gesturing with his spatula.

Zach looks a little worse for wear, but mostly sheepish. “Sure,” he says. “What do they have in them?”

“Blueberries,” Zoe says, very seriously. “My favorite.”

“Mine first,” Caitlin says. “Because I’m older.” Zoe sticks out her tongue, and Dylan laughs, so thankful for them.

“Have a seat,” he says, and turns back to the stove. He doesn’t have to talk much if he’s cooking, and then they’re all eating. Zoe chatters about the art class she’s going to start after school once winter break is over, and Caitlin cuts in to say that she’s going to be playing field hockey in the spring. Colin and Chloe open the front door as they’re finishing up.

It’s awkward. Colin eyeballs Zach and then gives Dylan a look. Dylan shrugs. Chloe takes their suitcase upstairs, above it all, and Zach looks like he’s trying to sink into the floor.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and pick out your clothes for the day, girls,” Colin says. “We’re going over to Grandpa and Grandma’s for dinner.”

They both clearly know that something is up, but they dutifully give Dylan a hug, and trudge up the stairs with minimal shoving.

“So,” Colin says.

Dylan rolls his eyes. “Calm down, Zach just crashed here. Not that it’s really your business.”

“I should go anyway,” Zach says. “I, uh. Ditched the end of the party, so I don’t want to know what my house looks like.”

“I’ll get you a car,” Dylan says, and pulls out his phone. He’d offer to drive Zach home, but he’s not sure he wants to. Colin’s expression is already mulish enough, and he has to think about what Zach said, drunk or not.

“Okay,” Zach says. “I’m – I’ll get my coat.” He doesn’t run, but he looks close to it.

“Nothing happened. He was just drunk.” Dylan tries to sound like that’s reasonable at all.

“He showed up at my house drunk?” Colin asks, the tone of his voice very cool.

“The girls were asleep. I made sure they didn’t see him that way. And I wouldn’t – if I thought he’d upset them –”

“I know,” Colin says. “But –”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure he knows not to do it again.”

Colin nods, and then pauses. He says, “He’s not over you either, huh?”

“I guess – I don’t know, I guess not,” Dylan says. “Does it matter?”

“I think it does,” Colin says. “Don’t you?”

Dylan shrugs. He’ll have to think about it.

Zach’s already out on the porch when Dylan goes to find him. It’s cold out, December in Michigan, and Dylan can see his breath.

“The car will be here in five,” Dylan says. “Colin wanted me to tell you not to show up drunk at his house again, not when his daughters are home.”

“Got it,” Zach says. “I’m sorry.”

Dylan hums. “I don’t know if you remember what you said –”

“I do,” Zach says.

“I’m –“ Dylan has to stop, take a breath. “I’m sorry if I pressured you into agreeing to marry me. I know I’m – I can be a lot. But there was never any doubt for me, that you were it. That I’d be happy with you forever. And the thought that you weren’t sure – that hurt me so much. The idea that you didn’t even think you could talk to me about it was worse.”

He wanted to say it, just to make sure that Zach knows. It isn’t even that he couldn’t have waited. It’s all of it.

Zach looks down at his hands, and then out onto the street. “You didn’t – you didn’t pressure me. I guess I just didn’t want to disappoint you. I tried – I didn’t want to hurt you, but in the end I just hurt you more.” He shakes his head. “That wasn’t supposed to be it for us. Not for _us_. I couldn’t even imagine it.”

“You thought I’d come crawling back,” Dylan says, thinking about how he pleaded with Zach to take it back, how he cried on the phone. He dreams about it sometimes. Zach cried too, at the time, but in Dylan’s dreams he’s always cold. Unfeeling.

“I thought you knew that when I said ‘I’m not ready yet’ I meant that someday I would be, that I still wanted it to be you. I was so stupid. I wasn’t ready to get married, and I didn’t know how to tell you, so I fucked everything up. I’d do it differently now.”

“I guess that’s good to know,” Dylan says.

Zach laughs, just a little. “Right. I won’t – sorry about last night.”

“It’s okay,” Dylan says. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

 

Dylan spends Christmas with his family. He eats good food, and gives everyone the too-extravagant presents that he got them. He thinks about what Zach said. He thinks about Zach’s face when he opened the front door to Colin’s house. He thinks about how many voicemails Zach left after they broke up. Dylan didn’t even listen to them.

He knows they were both wrong, that they were both kids, that now maybe things would be different. He can’t deny that he’s been waiting, wondering, if Zach had regrets too. It helps to know that he has.

The break ends, and Dylan still doesn’t know what he wants to do about it. He thinks he’s just – scared. It’s hard to let go of something that you’ve held onto for so long. It’s hard to think that maybe things could change for the better, if he lets them. He gets back into the locker room and shows off the extremely ugly but comfortable sweater his parents bought him, and Jake talks for forty minutes about how nice it was to see Seth and his family.

“You good?” Jake asks, after waxing poetic about green bean casserole for ten minutes.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dylan says. “Bionic knee and all.”

“You look a little better,” Jake says. “I’m glad. I didn’t come to Detroit to be the only good natured person around.”

“You’re such a supportive teammate,” Dylan says, but that’s just Jake. It’s what he’s best at.

 

Their first game back, they fly to Columbus. It’s convenient, in a way. Everyone will be asking Zach about it all weekend.

“Ready to go?” Tyler asks him. “You’re not gonna go easy just because you’re back in your old home stadium, right?”

Zach scoffs. “I don’t go easy,” he says. He still looks a little nervous during warmups, and Seth calls across the red line to him, easy chirps.

They show a very touching tribute, starting with a clip of Zach getting drafted, up through his last year with the team. It’s well made, and Dylan hopes he never leaves Detroit, that the only tribute he gets to see is the one when he retires. It’s possible.

Columbus scores first, a sloppy rebound that Bittner jams home. It’s the only goal in the first, but then halfway through the second the Wings get a powerplay, and Zach scores from the point, a beautiful one-timer. Half the crowd boos, and the other half claps, and Dylan crushes him into the glass.

“That’s a highlight for sure,” he screams, and Zach laughs in his face, and it’s like – it’s like Dylan thought it could be, the two of them on the ice together again. Perfect.

In the end, they win the game in overtime, a quick, sure shot from Michael that goes glove side, but that moment is the one that sits in Dylan’s chest.

Greta, his favorite reporter, gets the first question: “How did it feel watching Werenski score that goal?”

Dylan laughs. “I don’t know, did you see my face in the replay? What a goal. We were pretty happy for him. He won’t admit it, probably, but I bet it feels nice to get one on your first game back in your old stadium.”

“Lots of offense from the d this game,” someone else comments.

Across the locker room, Dylan looks for Zach, and finds him nearly drowning in microphones. “Yeah, I’ve said it all season – we wouldn’t be nearly the team we are right now if the defense wasn’t showing up for us.”

 

Later, after they eat dinner and get back to the hotel, Dylan goes to Zach’s room. For a long time he just stands in the hallway, twisting his fingers together and trying to convince himself to knock. He's not sure he's entirely forgiven Zach, but he also knows that he misses him. That he's missed him. He's scared and uncertain but he wants to be happy. He takes a deep breath, and he thinks about how Zach used to hold his hand just because he could. How Zach would touch his hip underneath his shirt while they watched TV together, rubbing his thumb absently over skin. How he'd kiss Dylan's shoulder blades in the morning until Dylan was awake enough to move. He hasn't forgiven, maybe, but the weight has shifted somehow. Enough. He steps up to the door.

Zach opens on his second knock, and Dylan watches the surprise flit across his face before he pushes it back and away.

“Hey,” Zach says. “Uh, come in.”

“Thanks,” Dylan says. Zach’s room looks like every other hotel room. Cleaner than Dylan’s but Zach’s the neat one of the two of them. Dylan doesn’t sit down, just twists his hands in front of him. “I’m – uh. I guess I’ve been thinking about what we talked about, and I wanted – I wanted to try again. To – to be something. I don’t know if it’ll work out, but I keep thinking about how - maybe. I miss you, too.”

“Really?” Zach asks. He bites his lips.

“I don’t know what. I don’t want to assume that we’ll even still work. But knowing what I know now, I’d regret letting it go. Letting you go.” Dylan can hear his voice shaking. He doesn’t know if he’s been this scared since he was sixteen and he asked Zach out for the first time.

“Fuck,” Zach says. When he inhales his breath is unsteady. “Yeah, yes, I’m – of course. I came back here for you. I love Detroit and I’ve always wanted to play here, but I came back for you.”

Zach’s said it before, or almost anyway, but hearing it like that makes Dylan’s chest tight. He doesn’t know what his face must look like, but Zach comes closer and touches him, cups his cheek, his hand so gentle.

“Of course I want to try again,” Zach says, and then he kisses Dylan, his mouth warm and familiar, exactly the way it’s always been, every time. Dylan feels like he’s drowning. He wishes he was less scared, but maybe he will be, someday. Maybe this can be something he’s sure he can have, someday. Right now, it’s enough to know that Zach wants to try, that they both want to try, that Zach is kissing him with a fervor that Dylan missed.

“I’m ready now,” Zach says, against his mouth. “I’m sorry I wasn’t, before, I’m sorry I was so stupid, but I’m ready now.”

 

Dylan sleeps in Zach’s room. They don’t fuck, but Dylan wakes up wrapped in Zach’s body, Zach’s thigh between his legs, Zach’s arms around him. It makes him ache, remembering how many times they woke up like this, but that’s not bad. Zach nuzzles his neck and kisses him and says, “You’re still here,” like part of him was worried Dylan would leave again.

“Still here,” Dylan says, turning in Zach’s arms so he can see Zach’s face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Zach says. He smiles, and Dylan thinks about all the ways they’re older now. They know so much more about themselves. Maybe this time it’ll last. Maybe this time they can make it last.

**Author's Note:**

> for the record, all the mentioned red wings players are people drafted by the red wings currently (except jake trouba, obviously). i doubt the roster will ever actually look like this, but we do what we can!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] a paper cut for two](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14807537) by [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/pseuds/ofjustimagine)




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